


In a Box on the Shelf

by ALittleBirdieToldMeASecret



Series: Undertale Shorts [6]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Mild Fighting, Standard warnings for an Underfell fic like mentions of dust and LV and whatnot, Underfell, its technically magic but you know, sans is a sloppy drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALittleBirdieToldMeASecret/pseuds/ALittleBirdieToldMeASecret
Summary: Every day in the Underground starts one of three ways.  Getting up early for a meeting, getting up early for patrol, or getting woken up at any odd hour for an emergency.  Today was no exception, or at least, not until it was time to wake up Sans, too.Inspired byan accidental chain comicmy friend and I made over on tumblr
Relationships: Papyrus & Sans (Undertale)
Series: Undertale Shorts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676344
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	In a Box on the Shelf

The air was crisp, humidity giving way to the snap of the cold wind blowing through the diminishing caverns.Rich violet light faded into the pale ashy grey of the snowbanks lining the jagged border to Waterfall.Fresh snow drifted soundlessly, laying a fine blanket over the imprints left by each step as he made his way back into Snowdin.

Dim artificial daylight had only just begun easing the stark shadows cast around him, by him, keeping his attention drawn sharply to sense any movement or Intent that may come from them.The day had barely started for most, but his had, as always, started all too soon after the previous one ended.Sleep evaded him with the same precision his brother used when sparring - just out of reach, but the unspoken knowledge it was much further than that always frustratingly at the forefront of his mind.

At the bare minimum, his lacking the need for sleep was useful, allowing him to be the ever watchful presence he and his brother worked so hard to achieve, posing a silent threat to anyone foolish enough to believe their town an easy target.

Undyne mocked him for it, of course, teasing that it made no sense for a skeleton to have bags under their sockets.Of course, if they didn’t, they would have certainly been the outliers.Only children held the glow of a good nights rest these days, and even then it was few and far between.Exhaustion didn’t discriminate.Though, and perhaps it was wishful thinking, those times seemed to be increasing, if even at a painfully slow rate.Progress was progress.And while the children may fear him, there was some understanding there, imparted by their parents, that he was a threat only to those who broke Asgore’s law.Within that scare tactic held a fragile trust that he would protect them, so long as they followed their parents wary guidance.

It never bothered his previous commanding officer, she barely even seemed to recognize the way monsters would vacate the streets at her presence, would shiver, stammer, watch them with wide, uncertain eyes.He’d never been afraid, certainly not of her, not even when she’d made an exception, just for him when he’d requested to join the Guard at too young an age, to battle her for his position.

The only fear in his soul that day was for his brother.He’d had to travel to the far end of Waterfall, while Sans remained in Snowdin, alone, at the sentry position he’d taken after Papyrus had insisted he’d be joining the guard as soon as possible.The thought of returning to dust had haunted him, and honestly still did most days.

Now, as he stalked along the edge of town, nodding to one of his men in passing, that worry had been shelved after leaving for his meeting with Undyne earlier that morning.Sans was safe, unconscious at home, far too early in the day for him to have stirred yet, and it made the quiet trek almost pleasant.As enjoyable as any trip to Waterfall could be.It had been peaceful, calm, as it usually was this early, and combined with the particularly rough sparring session he’d had with the other captain yesterday, his LV was at ease.

Of course, that could change at the drop of a hat.Especially knowing his brother had spent most of the night at Grillby’s again.It wasn’t always a given that he’d still be drunk the day after, but that was like saying it wasn’t always a given that Undyne would try to suplex him every time they met up.

Safe was better than sober, he digressed, appreciating the sight of their house as he came to the end of his brief journey.As always, the inside of it was warm.Warmer than he liked it, but his older brother ran cold, and living in Snowdin was harder on him than he’d ever admit.Angel knew it was far from Sans’s fault that his younger brother had accumulated enough LV to affect his body temperature.But, at the very least, it made for a pleasant return from particularly wickedly cold days.

All was still, the light over the kitchen sink providing the only source of it in the house so far, and it reminded him that he should probably make breakfast.His own magic churned at the thought, but Sans would most likely need something to help with the hangover, so with that in mind, he stripped off his dampening boots and excess armor and headed into the kitchen.

The supply lines had been doing well with the newly established posts they’d been able to set up thanks to a flux in new recruits, and it showed in the decent selection of ingredients he had to work with.Perhaps simple eggs and bacon would suffice, the grease and protein apt for recovering from a night drowned in cheap alcohol.

The biscuits he’d made a couple of days ago weren’t quite stale yet, being doctored up with a little time in pan after the bacon would help them pass his brother’s lazy inspection.Not that Sans would ever turn his metaphorical nose up at any of the food they were blessedly grateful to have access to, but he could always tell by the way his brother’s eye light shifted or how slowly he chewed what he did or didn’t enjoy, and he’d suffered through enough years of scrounging through garbage and taking the more unsavory finds for himself to deserve anything less than palatable.

Plating the dish was a steady sigh, he set it on the table at his brother’s favored seat before biting the bullet and making his way upstairs to wake him.

Any semblance of hope he’d had that his brother hadn’t totally wasted himself last night was dashed by the strangling wash of alcohol infused air that gusted out of the room when he opened the door.Pungent and bitter, he staunchly ignored the faint undertone of what was surely vomit as he picked his way through the garbage littering the floor to the mattress.

There, a suspiciously Sans shaped mound was curled under what looked to be about five blankets, while his sweat soaked pillow had been unceremoniously knocked to the floor.Lovely.Prodding the lump gently with his foot, a low groan sounded, followed by a movement that could potentially be described as him curling even further in on himself.

“Get up.You have work to do.”Maintaining his delicacy, he rolled the mound slightly with the heel of his foot, “Theres food downstairs.”

Normally, that would’ve been enough of a convincing argument, but apparently, this time was an outlier.A clawed band shot out from under the sheets and shoved his foot away, grumbling something that could’ve passed for obscenities had they been words and not just sound.

“I’m not asking, brother.Get up.”

Folding his arms over his chest, he tapped his foot impatiently until the blankets were melodramatically tossed aside.He was still fully dressed.

“don’ wanna fuckin get up,” judging by how slurred he sounded, the night hadn’t ended at Grillby’s, “asshole,” and a quick scan of the room revealed the proof in the empty bottle half buried amongst the dirty clothes.

“I don’t really care what you want.You’re getting up or I’m carrying you there like a toddler.”

“fuck off!”

Sidestepping away from the book thrown haphazardly in his general direction, it appeared he had his answer.Muttering his own frustrations under his breath, he marched back downstairs, covering the dish and placing it neatly in the refrigerator before heading back to the entryway and re-equipping his uniform.

However common it was for Sans to be hungover when he made his way to his station, his brother rarely drank at home.Personal alcohol was something of a rarity, though Sans could sometimes convince Grillby to sell him a bottle or two, but even then he wouldn’t waste it by getting hammered in one evening.Whatever his brother was upset about would have to be addressed later, when he was of a more sound mind.

After calming himself with a breathing exercise, he strode back upstairs, briefly thankful his brother was still fully dressed from yesterday, and returned to the radiation zone.He’d have to seriously consider finding a hazmat suit at the dump one of these days.

Digging his brother back out of his nest, he was met with little hostility, Sans apparently accepting his fate as he was fitted neatly underarm and whisked out of his den.A few grumbles here and there, but as they headed out into the brisk cold of the day, he had nothing else to say.

Or at least, not until they’d gotten as far as the bridge.

Mind focused on the day ahead, mentally working out a schedule for the week, he had no warning for the sudden outburst of unmitigated fury that possessed his brother.

“I’M NOT YOUR FUCKING BRIEFCASE!”

And with that, the skeleton half his size writhed like he was being crushed, scrambling for any kind of purchase under his brother’s arm, clawing, prying, cursing him.

It took every ounce of self control he had not to fling the raving fiend off out of instinct, shifting his hold even as claws scraped across his skull.And it wasn’t until one caught the corner of the sensitive cracks running through his left socket that he dropped the monster roughy to the ground.

He’d only managed one word, his name, before Sans disappeared in a snap of red magic.Cursing, he paced, LV and frustration simmering hotly far too close to the surface for him to think clearly.He needed to stop.Breathe. _Breathe_.

Exhaling a red tinted cloud into the frozen air, he counted.Four in, hold seven, out eight.He didn’t know how long he stood there, measuring each breath, but soon the dull pinch on his face assured him he’d worked through the worst of it.

Drawing a tender hand to his skull, he found the worst one, a row of scratches marring his forehead.They couldn’t be deeper than anything a particularly angry cat could do, but when he pulled his hand away, magic staining the tips of his claws, something strange twisted in his soul.

Sans had never hurt him.Not in his memory, anyway, which surely wasn’t flawless...but that twist turned to a clench, and he swallowed thickly.Only this time, it wasn’t LV.It had only done three damage, but the knowledge of who’d left it filled his mouth with a strange bitter taste.

Perhaps he’d been too impatient.If he was upset enough to make an attempt at staying drunk, something was bothering him deeply.Perhaps he should have just let him be.Would it have been wise to have him stationed drunk anyway?Someone could dust him easily with only a slight advantage.

Sighing once more, he wiped the red from his glove and summoned a touch of healing magic, continuing on toward his first post.He’d have much to think about for the next few hours.

So much for shelved worry.


End file.
